Tough Luck
by Ghost-Tongued
Summary: MEGATRON/MAGGIE; BARRICADE/MIKAELA; BUMBLEBEE/SAM; He figured nothing in his life could ever top destroying the universe's biggest threat. Boy, was he proven wrong when he turned said universe's biggest threat into a human ...
1. Chapter I: Complicated

**Title:** Tough Luck**  
Author:** ShadowDemon-Gengar**  
Character Pairings:** Megatron/Maggie; Barricade/Mikaela; Sam/Bumblebee**  
Genre:** Romance/Drama/Humor**  
Rating:** T**  
Warnings:** Profanity; SDG's Bad Humor**  
Disclaimers:** I only own this story and my own characters; nothing Transformers.**  
Summary:** Days were beginning to go back to normal for Sam after he had participated in and, more or less, ended the alien-based war in Mission City. Now he's back in school, dealing with every-day things again: a new girlfriend, a disgruntled best friend, said girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, and having to keep huge secrets (giant alien robot huge).

Yes, everything was back to normal again.

That is . . . until he started experiencing migraines . . .

**Recommendation(s):**_  
Page Width_: Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

_Light/Dark:_ This chapter is best read on the** light** background setting.

* * *

**Author's Note: **A section of this chapter was inspired by _payaso25us__'s_ fan-made trailer for the second Transformers movie. (If you want to see it, just go into my profile and search for it in the links. It's really cool!)

Also . . . I'm absolutely crying a river on the inside. I can't, for the freaking life of me, write this chapter correctly. I lost inspiration halfway through so I had to force the rest out, and while I hope the future chapters will fair much better, I can't toss this one out because it's more of a Prologue than a chapter, being important because it's telling everyone what's going on and where/when the story is taking place.

Edit: Thank you, _soaringphoenix86_, for catching my mistakes! I really appreciate it when they're caught 'cause no matter how many times I proofread, there're always those select few . . . (grumbles)

* * *

**Chapter One: Complicated**

He couldn't have been more grateful, being back at Tranquility High School; back to the normality of things: homework, sweaty gym class, monster-in-his-closet Trent DeMarco, being geek-o-rific, sarcastic-social-studies-teacher-who-had-actually-started-the-chain-of-events-that-ended-with-him-basically-saving-the-world Mr. Hosney, failing French class, having a super-hot girlfriend and . . . a disgruntled Miles Lancaster.

"_C'mon_, bro', it's not that bad!" he implored, trying to convince his blonde, shaggy-haired friend to hear him out . . . or to at least look at him.

They were outside, sitting at a table in the warm sun during their lunch period, but he was ignoring his lunch and his growling stomach, willing to starve the rest of the day if it meant getting his friend to acknowledge him.

Miles shot him a glare, his ham sandwich pausing at his open mouth.

He smiled weakly in response.

"Dude," his hippie-like friend growled, slapping his half-eaten sandwich down on the brown paper bag, and then turned slightly to give him the brunt of his glare, "you _ditched _me . . . for a _hoe._"

He frowned, the 'protective boyfriend' in him rising to the defense in spite of his futile attempts to plead for forgiveness. "Miles, Mikaela is my girlfriend and I'd kinda like it if you _didn't_ call her names, especially when I'm _right_ in front of you . . ."

For a second, he thought Miles was going to knock him clean off the bench, what with his eyes narrowing and his jaw visibly clenching.

"Do the words 'best friend' mean _anything_ to you, bro'?" Miles demanded, angrily.

He heaved an impatient sigh, frantically trying to plead his case as he gestured wildly with his hands. "Miles, come _on!_ I mean, seriously! You and I have been friends since the day we were able to take off our diapers and put 'em on each other's head! Why would I abandon you _now? _I mean, sure . . . I supposed I've been a little unfair to you . . . not returning your calls or coming over . . . or completely ignoring you in class . . . but Mikaela and I have been through a lot this past week! And -"

"Dude, _what?_" Miles suddenly shouted, forcing him into silence. His friend stared at him in indignant disbelief. "You just started talking to her, like, last _Friday!_ Just how much can you guys know about each other to 'go through' _anything?_"

He glanced around nervously, noticing that people were starting to look at them curiously. He looked back at Miles, whispering fretfully, "C'mon, man, keep your voice down. People are looking at us."

Miles glared coldly at him, snarling, "Man, don't tell me what to do! You're the one who went an-"

"Um . . . hey, guys."

Startled, he looked up to the see person of their argument staring down at them. Mikaela, tanned and beautiful as ever, looked back and forth between them.

"Uh . . . hey," he murmured, glancing apprehensively at his suddenly quiet friend. If Miles said anything nasty to Mikaela, he would have no choice but to rise to her defense . . . and he prayed to every god out there that it didn't come to that . . .

"So . . . ," Mikaela drew out quietly, and he knew how uncomfortable she was, the tense silence being so awkward. She smiled kindly at Miles who was not looking at her, but was picking at his sandwich. "Mind if I join you two?"

In response, Miles shot a cold look in his direction before quickly gathering up his lunch and getting up from the table, blatantly ignoring Mikaela as he brushed past her and walked back inside the school building.

Feeling a mixture of relief and frustration, he sighed and braced his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands. He felt Mikaela rub a hand over his back soothingly before taking Miles' vacated seat next to him.

"Sam, this isn't your fault," she said quietly.

He rubbed his face tiredly, his voice muffled in his hands, "Yeah? Well . . . it sure feels like it is."

He then felt small, warm hands wrap around his and gently tug them from his face. He glanced up to stare into his girlfriend's sweet, powder-blue eyes. For a moment, he got caught up in how beautiful Mikaela really was . . .

And then . . . doubt snuck in. Would he still be in this position, with her, if there hadn't been any Autobots or Decepticons?

The thought made his heart drop. _Probably not_,he thought, grimly.

He gently pried his hands from hers and, gathering up his neglected lunch, got up and quietly walked back inside the school, needing to be alone.

* * *

The black, monstrous-sized aircraft carrier waded silently in the middle of the cold, sloshing water of the Laurentian Abyss. Dark clouds smothered the sky above, bringing with it a light, dreary rain and harsh winds, dousing and blowing across the enormous, barren deck.

Standing patiently and broodingly at the edge of Tidalwave's deck, ignoring the cold rain, was the bi-pedal form of the Decepticons' white-on-black Scout. Next to him sat a silent, robotic imitation of a scorpion.

The transformed police cruiser's coal-burning quadoptics peered intensely into the restless sea that was becoming increasingly disgruntled by the approaching force of the storm.

"_Deepdive approaches_," suddenly thundered the massive ship, the voice so deep that the thick air seemed to quiver with it.

Barricade knelt down, his steel body soaked from the rain as his crimson gaze attempted to penetrate the dark depths to locate the comrade in question.

Suddenly, the water exploded upward, catching the morphed Saleen Mustang by surprise and knocking him backward, drenching him in the cold eruption of water. The small, scorpion-like Decepticon screeched as he, too, was soaked, and he immediately let out a string of angry curses in the form of shrieks and clicks.

"Quiet!" barked Barricade as he tried to right himself, his feet slipping and sliding over the slicked deck.

Grasping the railing, he peered over it and spotted Deepdive, who, like Tidalwave, was wading leisurely and unperturbed in the escalating waves. The blackened storm overhead growled, white-hot lightning striking water and rain coming down in heavy, cold sheets.

The elongated deck of the black submarine split and twisted; gears whirred and shrieked; panels and sheet metal sliced through air and water as they flipped and turned.

And then everything slammed into place once more, this time revealing a different form.

"Open up, ye great, reekin' pile of space barnacles!" Deepdive snarled, his throaty voice penetrating the howling wind as he pounded a fist on the armored warship's side, his non-patched optic glaring ferociously up at Barricade and Scorponok.

There was a metal-scraping-metal shrieking when the lower section of Tidalwave's side split and shifted, creating an opening large enough for the steel watercraft to climb into.

When Barricade spotted the battle-damaged body of his leader as it hefted into the opening, he immediately turned from the edge of the deck and charged for the portal opening that led down into the main deck area, dimly aware of Scorponok following closely behind.

When he made it into the main hanger, he found Deepdive struggling to haul their immobilized leader through the transformed opening, slipping on the floor and cursing avidly.

"Oi!" the submarine Decepticon angrily shouted, spotting him. "Get o'er here an' assist me, ye slaggin' landlubber!"

Barricade scowled, but heeded the order, shouldering the underwater war-tank out of the way and slipping his talon-sharp hands under a massive, chrome-armored arm. Deepdive mimicked him by grasping the opposite arm.

"_Heave!"_

Unbalanced by the rocking ship and the drenched floor as the growing waves splashed in through the opening, they managed to drag the lifeless form of their leader through the makeshift portal, steel screeching over steel, until they completely pulled him in.

Silence took hold of the room as both Decepticons backed away from the body. While Tidalwave closed the opening, preventing any further water from entering, Deepdive took that moment to speak.

"Now what, ye glitched blackguard?" he growled, his intakes slightly irregular from exertion. "Mind tellin' me wha' ye be plannin' for our glorious, dead leader?"

Barricade scowled, his crimson quadoptics narrowing in agitation and fought the violent urge to smash his fist in his strange-speaking comrade's face. "You fool; we're going to resurrect our 'dead leader'. What'd you think we were going to do? Enact the humans' burial ritual?"

Deepdive blinked his visible optic, speechless for a moment, and then sneered. "And how ye be accomplishin' tha' amazin' feat? Unless ye be Primus in disguise, there be no way o' bringin' him back withou' the Allspark!"

Scorponok shrieked when the bi-pedal police cruiser suddenly surged forward, clenching a talon'd hand around the transformed submarine's neck and shoving him roughly up against a steel wall.

"Wha' – t-the _slag?!"_ choked Deepdive, his crimson optic widening as he struggled under the iron hold of the smaller Decepticon.

The black cruiser bared his sharp dental components in a snarl, his coal-red quadoptics narrowed and bleeding light from rage.

"Don't ever question my intelligence again, slagheap," he growled darkly, his steel claws digging into Deepdive's neck cables and causing him to choke again, his hands wrapping around his arm and desperately trying to pull himself free. "The Allspark is eternal; it's not _possible_ to extinguish it. Its physical form may have been destroyed, but that just means it's taken on another."

"What-t ar-are y-you sayin-ing?" Deepdive gasped, his strange dialect forgotten in his panic as air intake became difficult.

Barricade scowled and suddenly backed off, allowing the bi-pedal submarine to collapse on the floor. Deepdive glared up at him as he brought a hand up to his assaulted neck.

Turning his back on him, the Decepticon police cruiser tilted his head up, shouting, "Take us back to shore!"

"_As commanded,"_ exploded the deep voice, the walls vibrating lightly under the thunderous sound.

"Slaggit, Barricade, wha' are ye plannin'?" demanded the transformed submarine, bracing himself against the wall when the massive aircraft carrier suddenly banked in a sharp turnaround.

The Saleen Mustang stood over the motionless form of their leader, staring down into the empty spark chamber that gaped up at him. Scorponok made gentle clicking noises, deeming it safe to move more into the room and stand next to him.

"Answer me!" shouted Deepdive.

The Decepticop glanced coolly over his shoulder, his quadoptics hard with lack of emotion. "That boy – Megatron's murderer; he's the Allspark's new form. And fortunately, I know where he currently lives."


	2. Chapter II: Only Human

**Title:** Tough Luck**  
Author:** ShadowDemon-Gengar**  
Character Pairings:** Megatron/Maggie; Barricade/Mikaela; Sam/Bumblebee**  
Genre:** Romance/Drama/Humor**  
Rating:** T**  
Warnings:** Profanity; SDG's Bad Humor**  
Disclaimers:** I only own this story and my own characters; nothing Transformers.**  
Summary:** Days were beginning to go back to normal for Sam after he had participated in and, more or less, ended the alien-based war in Mission City. Now he's back in school, dealing with every-day things again: a new girlfriend, a disgruntled best friend, said girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, and having to keep huge secrets (giant alien robot huge).

Yes, everything was back to normal again.

That is . . . until he started experiencing migraines . . .

**Recommendation(s):**_  
Page Width_: Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

_Light/Dark:_ This chapter is best read on the** light** background setting.

* * *

**Author's Note: **AAAARRRrrgghhh . . . ! Holy shit, this is a boring chapter, guys. I'm so sorry for the late update. I'm hoping, _hoping_, that things will start moving by the next chapter. :\

Edit 10.07.08 - Thank you, _Xaniss_, informing on the mistakes you caught! I quickly went in and fixed them. The one that is actually okay (but I can see where you thought otherwise) was the "he was gently inquired", where "he" is actually Sam and not Optimus. I really do appreciate these little corrections. They're the little buggers that are always elusive no matter how many times I proofread my chapters. ;-;

* * *

**Chapter Two: Only Human**

_"Sam! SAM!"_

_"Ironhide, where's Bumblebee?!"_

_"OPTIMUS!"_

_"Dear Primus, what just happened!?"_

He felt as if someone had stabbed a nail into his forehead and was taking their time pounding it into his skull. The loud, confused voices overhead, mixed with the thundering stomping on the ground, only worsened the brain-busting headache.

"Sam? Sam can you hear me?" whispered a soft, distraught voice that sounded much like Mikaela's. "Sam, _please!_ Open your eyes!"

He groaned softly. He wanted to be left alone – his head hurt so much . . . The steady, drum-like throbbing was unbearable . . .

"'K-'Kaela . . . ?" he murmured hoarsely, too unexplainably exhausted to open his eyes. He was dimly aware of his head propped up in someone's lap and the feel of slender fingers combing through his hair soothingly.

"Sam? Oh, thank God," he heard Mikaela reply, sounding relieved.

"My . . . m-my head . . . hu-hurting . . . ," he moaned quietly, unable to form his sentence completely.

"Sam?" suddenly whispered a much deeper, mechanized voice.

He furrowed his brows and turned his head slowly in the direction of the sound. "Optimus?"

"Sam, are you all right?" he was gently inquired.

Was he _all right?_ His head felt as if it was going to explode from the pain and pressure behind his eyes, and he felt so drained; so exhausted. His muscles were heavy and almost unresponsive as he tried to sit up.

Yeah. Just peachy.

"What . . . what happened?" he groaned, falling back down into Mikaela's lap when a wave of dizziness crashed into him.

"Sam –" Optimus started, but was interrupted by a confused and albeit unnerved-sounding Ironhide.

"OPTIMUS!"

He grimaced at the loud, gravely shout. The ground trembled as massive, frantic footsteps grew closer until they came to halt somewhere nearby.

"What is it? Did you find Bumblebee?"

"No, but I -," there was a pause. Then, "I found something else."

Gathering up the little strength he had, he slowly forced his eyes open, squinting against the sunlight as his vision swam with blurriness. He caught the dark outline of the bulky, bi-pedal Topkick bending down to carefully empty his hands of something. Three, pale objects were stretched out next to one another on the pavement.

"Oh, my God!" Mikaela murmured above him. "Who are they? Are they all right?"

"What's . . . what's going on?" he demanded hoarsely, forcing himself up on his elbows to try and get a better look. Vision sharpening, he managed to make out the objects as being three men, naked and unmoving.

"Ratchet, are they unharmed?" Optimus asked, worry evident in his voice.

He glanced up in time to see the neon-yellow medic crowd around the bodies, his solar-blue optics flashing brightly and scanning over them. "They seem perfectly all right. Respiratory levels and heart rates are strong."

"But . . . who are th–" he started, becoming agitated as his head began to pound harder then ever.

Suddenly, the world seemed to explode around him, white-hot light filling his vision and blinding him . . .

* * *

_He sighed as he walked into the house, the cool air greeting him in a rush as he closed the door and leaned heavily against it._

_"Sammy, honey, is that you?" called a sweet voice from somewhere in the house._

_"Yeah, mom," he called back unenthusiastically, resisting to roll his eyes. He didn't want to be bothered right now. He just wanted to go to his room and lock himself in it for the rest of the night._

_"Make sure you help your father with the lawn! You promised him!"_

_He groaned, looking up at the ceiling, silently begging for mercy. His parents treated the lawn as if it was their other child, spoiling it so much by watering it and clipping it day in and day out. Really, how hard was it to understand that grass had gotten along just fine without the help of humans for millions of years?_

_"It's g'onna be a sad, sad day when I have to start fighting __**grass**__ for Dad's attention," he grumbled, dragging his backpack behind him as he started up the stairs._

_Once he barricaded himself in his bedroom, he dove onto his unkempt bed and buried his face into his pillow, sighing heavily. He glanced up in time to see his Chihuahua jump up onto the bed, wagging his tail happily as his "bling" clinked with the movement._

_"Hey, Mojo," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. He reached up and scratched little buddy behind the ear. Idly, he started thinking about all the things that had happened to him in the past week, including saving the planet at the cost of his best friend's friendship._

_He sighed again, tucking his arms under the pillow and pulling it tighter against his face as he turned to rest his cheek against it. "What am I g'onna do, Mojo? I mean, I can't just go and say, 'Hey, Miles, the whole reason why I've been ignoring you is 'cause I'm still getting over the shock of coming in contact with giant alien robots, having defeated Earth's threat formally known as 'Megatron', and having almost died more times than I can count on both our hands and feet.'"_

_Mojo just looked at him with his huge, round eyes, and cocked his head to the side._

_"Then there's Mikaela," he groaned, rolling onto his back and staring up at his ceiling. "I totally blew her off today . . . Man, I feel like a complete jerk; like I pulled a total Trent-DeMarco."_

_Mojo barked._

_He rubbed his eyes tiredly and then pushed himself into a sitting position. _

_"Yeah, I'll call her and say I'm really sorry. Maybe I can get her hang out tonight."_

_Mojo yipped, as if to say he completely understood what he was going through. _

_'Maybe he does,' he thought with amusement. Peeing on and then being flicked away by Ironhide's toe must have been traumatizing in some way._

_Pushing his fingers through his shortly cropped hair tiredly, he reached over to his nightstand and snatched up the cordless phone. He stared down at it, feeling a little nervous. He really hoped Mikaela wasn't upset . . ._

_Suddenly burning, red-hot pain exploded behind his eyes, and his hands flew up to grab his head. He cried out, more in surprise than pain._

_"Holy sh–" he gasped, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as his nails dug into his scalp. He ignored Mojo when he started growling._

_Dizzily, he cautious slid his eyes open again, tenderly rubbing his throbbing temples._

_Dimly, he heard the house's doorbell chime down below._

_"I'll get it!" his mother called cheerily._

_Mojo leapt off the bed, avoiding his hand when he reached out to pet him. He frowned, but left the dog alone. 'Wow, that was so . . . random. What the heck just happened?'_

_"Sam? Could you come down here, please?" his mother called, and then shouted in another direction, "RON! GET IN HERE!"_

_Scratching his head tiredly, he got up and walked out into the hallway. Part of him was hoping that it was Miles. They __**seriously **__needed to talk._

_He paused at the top of the stairs when he saw his mother standing at the open doorway and a tall man, dressed in a dark police uniform, waiting just outside the threshold._

_He took the steps down slowly, his hand gripping the sleek banister tightly as he eyed the silent man. A vague sense of familiarity – the pale skin; the lanky build; the gaunt, emotionless features; the simple, brown mustache – had his gut instincts screaming in warning._

_"Mom?" he said warily, stopping when he reached the bottom step, not willing to move any closer to ominously silent policeman. He could actually feel his gaze on him through those dark shades._

_His head began to pound again harder than ever, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the pain._

_"What is it, Judy?" his father demanded irritably as he walked into the room, still in his gardening gloves and worn overalls, a fine sheet of sweat glistening on his forehead._

_"Well, I don't know," she said worriedly, looking between him, his father, and the eerily silent police officer._

_He grimaced, pain starting to stab behind his eyeballs. His stomach lurched suddenly. He didn't hear the conversation between his parents or the officer. He could still feel the man's eyes on him; a chilling sort of gaze that pierced right through him and made his body tremble as his adrenaline began to rush. It was as if his body was unconsciously readying itself for a fight-or-flight showdown._

_It knew something was wrong; __**very**__ wrong. He could practically taste the danger that was oozing off the man and that was enough to make him back away._

_"Sam? Honey? Are you all right? Goodness, you're so pale!"_

_"I . . . I think I need to go to the hospital, mom," he said hoarsely, eyeing the still silent officer that had yet to move a muscle. _

_'Bumblebee,' he thought frantically. 'I need to get to Bumblebee.'_

_"Oh, my! Ron, he's burning up!" his mother cried, her cool hand pressed against his pounding temples. His frowned and removed a glove before pressing a damp hand against his cheek, checking it out for himself._

_"Yeah, you're right. All right, let's go," he conceded, tossing down his gloves and moving to grab his car keys from the coat rack._

_"I'll be more than willing to escort him to the hospital."_

_He tensed and snapped his gaze up at the officer, eyes widening. Oh, no – that was the __**last**__ thing he wanted. Instincts told him that if he went with him . . . he would not be coming back._

_"No, we're –" his father started._

_Suddenly, it felt like a burning fist did a cruel uppercut into his stomach. He gasped and doubled over, grasping his cramping, churching abdomen. His strength drained from his legs and he fell to the floor hard._

_"Sam!" he heard his mother cry._

_Through the thick veil of pain that was pounding through his veins, he felt an arm loop around his waist and gently heft him back to his feet. He barely registered his father's anxious expression or that he was slowly being eased out the door._

_"Easy, son. You're going to go with the officer to the hospital, got it? We'll be right behind you."_

_He wanted to protest immediately, mentally crying out for Bumblebee who sitting passively in the driveway as he was led away. But his voice had abandoned him. He wanted to kick and struggle and push and shove, but his muscles were dead of any feeling. He could only scream within the confines of his mind while he was half-carried to the awaiting police cruiser parked along the curb._

_And the most he could do when he saw the familiar, haunting phrase _"To Punish and Enslave" _painted along the rear quarter panel was gag loudly, his stomach pitching up into his throat. _

_The hologram officer pulled open the passenger side door and then slid the front seat forward so that he could be placed into the backseat._

'_Dad, please! Please! This is not a real officer! Oh, God, don't let him drive away with me! He's going to kill me, goddamnit! DAD! __**DAD**__!' he wanted to shout, but he could only rest heavily against the window behind the driver's seat, exhausted from the _i_ncreasing pressure behind his eyes and his emotional anguish at his utter helplessness._

_"I will take him to the hospital at once. Do not fret, Mister and Misses Witwicky. He is in safe hands."_

_There was absolutely no emotion in the hologram's voice; just cold lies that had his mind reeling in terror. His parents quickly thanked the false human and ran back to the house to fetch their car keys._

_In that second, the hologram disappeared with a dull flicker and the doors' manual locks snapped down securely._

_**'We meet again, fleshbag. Time to go. The Autobrat is already charging me.'**_

_His heart began to pound frantically in response to hearing the familiar, growling voice as it vibrated out of the surrounding speakers. Suddenly, the whole vehicle shot forward like a bullet, throwing him back hard against the stiff, leather seats. A seatbelt slapped down around him, pinning him into place with almost crushing force._

'RELEASE THE BOY, BARRICADE!'

_He looked up, wide-eyed, when he heard Bumblebee's voice. His kidnapper simply replied to the demand by switching off the radio with a hard __**click**__._

_**'I can feel the Allspark's energy boiling inside you, Samuel Witwicky. As I predicted, you are the next carrier.'**_

_He was too caught up in trying to stay conscious to fully understand what was being said. His head . . . it was going to explode open with the pain pressure. The back of his eyes felt as if they were on fire, burning the optic nerves without mercy. His muscles were coiled so tight from tension and fear that they were starting to cramp up, only adding to his distress._

_He was starting to soak in a cold sweat, his hair damp and his shirt clinging to his skin as his body struggled to stabilize his raging temperature. His stomach and abdomen were cramping horribly and he had to fight to keep from retching on the enemy's floorboard._

_Then . . . he slipped into unconsciousness; fainted; something that was gratefully welcomed._

_Something that was then ripped away from him just as quickly. Just as suddenly as the light had died on him, it came back in the form of him being tossed out into the air and landing, brutally, onto hard, unforgiving concrete. His body went into an uncontrolled tumble and roll, scraping and skinning his bare arms and face until he came to a stop against cold, oddly wet steel._

_"Quickly, ye vagabond! The Allspark power . . . Primus, hurry it up!"_

_The pain . . . it was absent now. Like as if he had never felt it to begin with. He was just simply there, feeling light and warm, as he listened to an unknown voice arguing with Barricade, panic unmasked in its tone. _

_In the distance, he became vaguely aware of engines roaring closer and then the comforting familiar voices of the Autobots. _

_But then . . . everything seemed to fall into chaos again. The ground shook with hurried footsteps; his name was being called by Bumblebee; there were cries of retreat._

_He slowly opened his eyes to greet his buddy . . . but all he saw was pure, white light._

_He was weightless, floating through the white abyss. 'Where am I . . . ? Where'd everyone go . . . ?' he thought. But he couldn't bring himself to . . . really care. He was carefree . . . safe and warm. Stress and pain was non-existent._

_He squinted his eyes a little when he caught sight of something in the distance . . . _

_Shapes, dark and indistinct . . . like shadows on the other side of frosted glass. There were six. Three of which were huge and hulking._

_He frowned, squinting harder. What were they . . . ?_

_As if reading that thought, the haze cleared slowly, sharpening the lines and angles of the shadows until details and color shone through. Immediately he recognized the motionless body of Bumblebee, standing at attention but otherwise not online._

_He stiffened when Barricade's visage cleared . . ._

_And then the peaceful, laid-back feeling died the instant he recognized the cruel features of the Decepticon leader._

_Fear seized him immediately, and his heart began to pound. He wanted to run away; wanted to hide somewhere safe. But he couldn't take control of his legs. _

_Why was he seeing Megatron? Wasn't he supposed to be at the bottom of an ocean somewhere? In fact, why was he seeing Barricade and Bumblebee, too? What was going __**on**__?_

_The fog cleared around the robotic beings' ankles and he paused, confused. Nude men, __**human**__ men . . . just as still and silent as the Cybertronians towering over them._

_He studied them curiously, taking in their features. The one closest to Megatron seemed much older and taller than the other two as well as heavier in muscle mass. The other two seemed . . . the exact same in physical stature: medium height, toned, and slim; twins, except for facial structures and hair._

_He reached out for his offlined guardian, his voice coming out in only a whisper. "Bumblebee . . . ?"_

_The reaction he got was not one he expected._

_All three of the humans' eyes snapped open. _

_Two pairs shone in black crimson while the third glowed an angelic blue; all staring quietly right at him._

_And then . . . the fog wafted around them again, distorting and veiling them again from his view. _

_"Wait, 'Bee!" he cried, feeling panic well up in his chest. He reached out toward the fading figures as the white light blinded his vision once more . . ._

* * *

A gasp ripped from his throat the second the white heat was sucked from his eyes. He blinked excessively as he looked around frantically. His gaze halted on the three naked men that were slowly rousing to consciousness. Immediately, when he recognized them from his vision, he squeaked loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Sam? Sam! What's wrong?" Mikaela demanded, anxious. She struggled to hold him still, but he fought her, trying to scoot back, the heels of his sneakers digging into the rough concrete and pushing backwards.

"M- M- M- !" was all he could get out as he stabbed a finger at the black-haired man who slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, a hand going to his head as he groaned softly.

"What is it, Sam?" Mikaela whispered, staring at him worriedly before turning to look at the man as well.

He finally managed to get the name out when those crimson-black eyes suddenly widened, his hands grabbing fistfuls of his long, dark hair and pulling it in front of his face, as if to get a better look. His expression turned to one of horror and stunned disbelief.

_"__**MEGATRON!**__"_


	3. Chapter III: Rebirth

**Title: **Tough Luck**  
Author: **ShadowDemon-Gengar**  
Character Pairings: **Megatron/Maggie; Barricade/Mikaela; Sam/Bumblebee**  
Genre: **Romance/Drama/Humor**  
Rating: **T**  
Warnings: **Profanity; SDG's Bad Humor**  
Disclaimers: **I only own this story and my own characters; nothing Transformers.**  
Summary: **Days were beginning to go back to normal for Sam after he had participated in and, more or less, ended the alien-based war in Mission City. Now he's back in school, dealing with every-day things again: a new girlfriend, a disgruntled best friend, said girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, and having to keep huge secrets (giant alien robot huge).

Yes, everything was back to normal again.

That is . . . until he started experiencing migraines . . .

**Recommendation(s):**  
_Page Width: _Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

_Light/Dark:_ This chapter is best read on the **light** background setting.

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**Author's Note: **AHAHAHA!! It sucks! It started out okay . . . and then I slammed on the accelerator and _BAM!_ Right into a brick wall. Anyway, just like _Elexies_, I was inspired to continue this after seeing TF: RotF. I plan on revising the first two chapters just a little bit as well as _Glass Starlight_ and _To the Rats_. (Going to make the later a Barricade/Mikaela romance rather than a Barricade/OC.)

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**Chapter Three: Rebirth**

Madness. Madness. It was all madness. An unfortunate break down of his processor, surely. This was not possible – wholly _improbable_.

And yet, it felt so very _real._

The flesh wrapped around his appendages was soft and smooth with the slight coarseness of hair that matched the thick, dark mass that stemmed from his head and fell around his hideous, organic visage and naked shoulders.

His fingers . . . no longer elongated claws that could tear through an Autobot's armor and mercilessly sever the delicate and intricate circuitry beneath, but now a transformation of flesh and a fine bone structure that could curl at three joints, the shorter fifth one only bending at two. Pitiful, slightly flexible armor covered the tips of each digit, grown out to white, slightly rounded points.

As he stared down at his hands, he began to feel light-headed, nausea welling up thickly and threatening to force him to spew the contents in his fuel tank.

Disgusting! He was soft and squishy and ugly, his body frail and his once acute senses dulled to the point of uselessness! Around him, he felt humiliatingly small amongst the towering forms of the Autobots when his own Cybertronian form used to stand taller than even the 'magnificent' Optimus _Prime!_ Now he was a mere _eighth_ of that original size.

His cold, quietly enraged gaze lifted slowly to regard the cause of this madness, the murderous intent he felt was so potent one could practically touch it. And he took dark, sadistic enjoyment in seeing the boy's eyes widen and his body shrink behind a leg of one of the Autobots, clearly afraid despite the crackling, neon blue energy bars keeping him caged in the cold, barren cell he'd been thrown into after his attack on the little maggot. Even from his distance, he could see dark contusions in the shape of his newly transfigured hands and fingers appearing on the boy's neck

On the opposite side of one of his prison walls, there was a loud clang, and he knew who it was, frantically trying to find a way to escape from this physical and surreal madness.

"_Silence_, Barricade."

Even his voice was different, the harsh, synthesized tone replaced by a now simply deep, smooth sound that rang clear as crystal. The only resemblance to his former voice was the low, menacing growl that seemed to edge his every word.

But the vocalized command of his authority remained intact, and his understandably bewildered and agitated soldier ceased his racket on the other side of the wall, his own voice lacking the mechanized grind as he murmured an apology, the words slightly muffled due to the solid barrier between their cells.

He turned his attention back to the Autobots, listening intensely as they discussed what was to become of his follower and himself, his burning gaze falling back on the Witwicky boy . . .

* * *

Hate was all he recognized. A vicious, dark loathing settled deep in those eerie, crimson eyes, making the rising bruises around his neck throb in sync with his hammering heart. He could still feel those large hands enveloping him – the crushing grip that had instantly cut off his airway.

It'd been like a terrible dream: One second he had been wrestling himself from Mikaela's arms and the next he'd been tackled back to the ground by a body mass of solid muscle, hands immediately wrapping around his throat and squeezing at his windpipe, the man's lips pulled back to bare teeth in an snarl, long hair that was as black as death falling around sharp, strong features as cruel, crimson-black eyes watched him as he slowly lost consciousness. . .

A shudder crept up his spine, like an oily serpent, and he brought a hand up to his abused throat, curling his fingers around it protectively as he hid deeper behind Ironhide's leg, all the while listening to them talk about their options.

"What are we going to do, Optimus? We don't know how to care for humans, much less _Decepticon_ humans," the medic sighed.

"I say let them rot," growled the gruff weapons specialist, his brilliant blue eyes glaring heatedly across the room at the two naked men sitting compliantly behind the energy bars. "They're Decepticons, and even in their current state they're still no less dangerous and violent."

He grimaced, his fingers gingerly rubbing his bruises, glancing at the thoughtful Optimus to hear his opinion.

"And what of Bumblebee, Ironhide?" he quietly reminded, the hydraulics in his arm hissing as he slowly turned to offer a hand in the direction of the Autobot in question. "Do you wish to punish him as well?"

He turned slowly with Ironhide to regard the saddening scene, something akin to pity and helplessness clenching in his chest. Sitting on a bench, curled up against Mikaela's slender figure, was his transfigured guardian, his tall, lean figure wrapped tightly in her arms, his nude form barely concealed by the flimsy blanket draped around them.

He could see a light tremble in the wide shoulders, his naked back facing him and everyone else in the room with his face buried against one of Mikaela's arms, his thick, sun-blond hair unkempt and going in all directions.

_'God . . . I'm so sorry, 'Bee . . .'_ he thought sullenly, wanting nothing more than to go over and comfort him as well, the nasty guilt ravaging his conscience. But he didn't trust himself – didn't trust himself to not make things worse. This was his fault, no matter how many times he was told that he was being ridiculous, that nobody knew he was essentially the 'new Allspark'.

"Fine . . . then what do you suggest we do, Prime?" snapped Ironhide, turning away again, as if he couldn't stand seeing their youngest, bravest soldier so traumatized . . .

And that was the one question that kept plaguing his mind. Now that the damage was done, what were their options..?

"We could teach them how to be humans . . . ? You know, to take care of themselves and stuff. Until we can figure out a way to change them back, anyway."

He turned to gawk at Mikaela, and the room seemed to shake when the Autobots turned to her as well.

Her powder-blue eyes flicked to each of them, her mouth pulling into an indignant frown as she glowered a little, holding Bumblebee tighter, and appearing defensive. "It was just a thought, okay? Not like any of you were coming up with anything . . ."

"Actually . . ." Ratchet murmured, his solar-blue optics brightening, as if he was just struck with an ingenious plan. "Such a radical idea, Mikaela, and yet it's quite possibly the most logical . . ."

Sam blinked, absolutely floored.

. . . _What?_


End file.
